


Of Mine Own Hands

by sceptick



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceptick/pseuds/sceptick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The island teaches many lessons. Izumi won't let her new pupils forget them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Mine Own Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chibifukurou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibifukurou/gifts).



There’s a muffled crash in the distance, and it’s that, rather than the sunlight streaming in through the curtains or the birds singing outside her window, that wakes Izumi. She’s got ears for trouble, her mother used to say. She sits up slowly, rubbing grime out of her eyes and feeling twice her age, and wonders what surprise her new apprentices have waiting for her _this_ time.

Her slippers are ready at the side of her bed, perfectly positioned. That’s Sig’s work; the little Elrics are far too scared of her to dare venture into her room. As they should be.

Her hands shake slightly as she tugs on her housecoat, and she smiles to herself bitterly. It’s possible they won’t be afraid of her now, after the way she collapsed last night. Does one month stranded on an island count for more than an embarrassing fainting spell in a restaurant? It’s not like this’ll be the last time it happens, if they stick around.

There’s sounds of muffled arguing beyond her door, so she doesn’t waste any more time on self-pity. Izumi takes a moment to simply breathe, appreciating the morning air and allowing it to awaken her stores of righteous fury, then strides to the door and throws it open.

“Good morning, students!” Her voice, loud and cheerful, breaks the sudden terrified silence that followed the swing of the door. “What fresh hell have you wrought today?”

Edward and Alphonse Elric stare at her with twin expressions of horror. It warms the very cockles of her heart, it really does. Less endearing is the mug and plate reduced to shards of porcelain on the ground between them.

“Well, what have we here?”

The Elrics share a glance, and then Ed steps forward, deliberately placing himself within the firing range. “We dropped some stuff.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Izumi says. She crosses her arms. “Running with my good china, were you? Or rough-housing in the halls? Well?”

Ed scowls, dropping his gaze. That won’t do at all, and Izumi’s frown deepens; he and his brother have perhaps learnt what lessons the island could offer them, but there’s more to alchemy than understanding that all things must end in their due course, and that it is no real end. There’s discipline, and there’s respect, and both of those things involve _listening to your teacher_.

She’s opening her mouth to chastise him further when Alphonse steps up to join his brother. “We’re sorry, Mrs. Izumi,” he says, in that sweet high voice of his. Izumi’s arms uncross slightly. “We were just going to bring you a cup of tea and some toast, but then brother –“

“Don’t pin it on me, Al!”

“Well, you did trip, brother. I’m not gonna to Mrs. Izumi,” Alphonse says, and his angelic smile has become quietly smug.

“Stupid carpet was in the way,” Ed says, hands making tiny fists and casting a betrayed glare down at his own feet. “Besides,” he says, with renewed brotherly irritation, “it was my idea in the first place, so –“

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was –“

“Enough!” Izumi says, hands on her hips, and they fall silent immediately. She waits a moment, then her face softens into a smile. “That was a very sweet gesture, Edward, Alphonse. Thank you.”

Their shame-faced pouts immediately become wide, if shocked, smiles. Ed tries to fight his back immediately, and scuffs a foot against the floor, but Alphonse beams at her openly.

Izumi’s right hand shifts from her hip onto the curve of her stomach until she realizes what she’s doing.

All of a sudden it feels again like she’s in danger of falling, like all the blood has left her body and it’s nothing but cool ash in her veins. She shakes her head to clear it, brings her left hand down to clasp her right in front of her. She pulls herself together.

Damn it all, _this_ was why she didn’t want students.

Ed and Al are still staring at her; their grins have faded slightly, no doubt at the look on her face. Izumi forces a smile. She may not have wanted students, but she’s got them now, and no student of hers will think her weak.

“Now,” she says. “Clean up the mess you’ve made, and be quick about it. We start your lessons in earnest today.”

The grins return, and Edward actually hollers with triumph, jumping on the spot and punching the air. Izumi quirks an eyebrow, but Ed just grins shamelessly at her. _Oh, to be young again._ Since her breakfast is now on the floor and undoubtedly full of tiny daggers of porcelain, she brushes past her students, confident in their ability to handle this one thing without her. Sig can throw her together something quick, to wake her up and ready her for the day ahead of her. She has a feeling teaching alchemy will prove to be twice as hard as learning it.

She’s only a few steps down the hall, however, when she hears Ed say, “Fetch the chalk, Al, this should just take a simple array, right? No problem!”

She spins on her heel. Edward is crouched over the broken dishes, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Al is already racing towards her – towards the stairs and, beyond them, the bedroom he and Ed share now. She reaches out and catches him by the scruff of the neck, pulls him in to her side, and marches him toward Ed.

“And what do you think you’re doing now, my foolish pupil?”

Ed frowns in consternation. “We’re cleaning it up, just like you said!”

“With alchemy?”

“Yeah,” Ed says, and he pauses, obviously unsure of where she’s going with this. Izumi glances down to Al, and he, too, is staring at her, confused.

She sighs, and releases Al to raise her hand to her temple. Not three days off the island and they’ve already forgotten everything? Honestly.  

They’re still staring at her. And they’re so _tiny_.

Izumi sighs again. She crouches, feeling how every muscle strains against it. Placing a hand on one shoulder of each boy, she says, “Do you remember what you learned from the island?”

“Yeah,” Ed says, and Al says, “All is one. One is all.”

“Yes,” Izumi says. She pauses, trying to think of how best to proceed. “All is one, and one is all. In time, everything dies, and as it becomes nothing it also becomes everything. Death is life. Death is important. All matter is one. This is the most important lesson of alchemy, and I’m very glad you’ve both learnt it, but it isn’t the _only_ lesson of alchemy. Do you remember how I told you not to use alchemy while on the island?”

Both boys nod.

“Alchemy is a tool. It is an aid. It is not a necessity. There’s value in doing things with your hands, without alchemy. That’s the second lesson of the island: that there’s danger in becoming over-reliant on alchemy, and strength in working without it. Do you understand?”

They nod again, little faces solemn. Izumi smiles.

“Good.” She rises, dusting off her hands. “I’ve changed my mind. This time, I’ll clean up. You two can run down to the kitchen and tell Sig to make me some more toast. Then go outside and start stretching.”

They pause halfway through this nod, and tilt their heads almost simultaneously in confusion. Izumi determinedly resists the urge to ruffle their hair. These kids barely know her, after all, and she barely knows them. She’s just their teacher.

“Strength of the body balances strength of the mind. And becoming strong physically might help you resist the urge to scratch out an array at every obstacle you face,” she says, gently teasing. “So. Stretch. And don’t skimp, my dear students, or you’ll regret it.”

She’s grinning. She knows she’s grinning, because she does so love this part. But the Elrics are grinning too, cautiously, and then more euphorically. She’s made the right choice. They want to learn, and she is without question the best person to teach them.

“Scat!” she says, and they jump to, with a “Yes, Mrs Izumi!”

She lets them get all the way to the stairs this time before she says, “Oh, and one more thing.”

They turn to her, and her grin becomes sharper still. “If I’m going to be getting you munchkins up to speed, you can start by showing some respect and calling me ‘Teacher.’ Understood?”

They grin again, and eagerly chorus, “Yes, Teacher!” Then they bound off down the stairs, with Alphonse’s excited giggles echoing back up to her until they reach the ground.

Once they’re gone, Izumi fetches her broom and dustpan from the closet off the hall. She crouches again before the mess, this time alone. The repetitive motions of clearing it away are soothing, strengthening. She feels herself become alert. She’s always loved housework; it grounds her in a way little else does, and she takes pride in it in a wholly different way than she is proud of her skill as an alchemist. Next time, she thinks, she will allow the Elrics to clean up after themselves, but today she needs this.

Once the mess is sorted, she rises to her feet again. She takes a moment to luxuriate, as she had with the smell of fresh morning air, in the new strength that seems to fill her muscles, steadying her legs and readying her arms for whatever the fates may choose to throw at her. Then she makes her way down the stairs at a brisk pace, accepting her toast from Sig with a kiss of thanks; she’s done devouring it before she’s even reached the front door, so both her hands are free to swing it open with a bang. She cracks her knuckles; she smiles.

“Alright, students! Who’s up first!”


End file.
